Theory of Distraction
by KiaForrest
Summary: Ninth Doctor&Rose, spoilers for S1,Missing Scene for POTW:  She'd learned to guess how large an explosion was going to be by observing the Doctor's willingness to be distracted


Beta'd by gracious grig32 Worthless Disclaimer: BBC owns the Doctor and all his gorgeous parts. I own a 1984 trailer, a 1993 Dodge van and several chipped coffee mugs. That seem right to you? **A/N**: Still stuck in moments of Parting of the Ways:

Many attempts to communicate are nullified by saying too much. -- Robert Greenleaf 

000ooo000

She'd learned to guess how large an explosion was going to be by observing the Doctor's willingness to be distracted. 

theory or distraction

His hands were sure, connecting bare wire tips to couplers like thread through a wide-eyed needle. One ear on the chatter from the speaker, one on the thrum of Satellite 5, he winced with each harsh tone and metal complaint. A tick was developing under his right eye as he tracked a route from the work in his hands to the screen of advancing Daleks', to the TARDIS, then skimming over Rose. A complete circuit, he pulsed steadily along. Behind the gaze, his mind was no doubt calculating, planning and sifting through seconds, probably considering the morality of televising life and death with a spare brain cell or forty.

Typical. Reassuring. No need to worry test her theory or distraction, not really.

"So." 

He braced his feet more firmly on the deck. "So?" 

"How come when we get sucked out of the TARDIS by transmat beams of enormous power, Jack gets a fashion field trip? I get Mr. Thank God You're So Stupid, and you get a groupie?" She shook wire tips between them to emphasize her next point, "Next time, **I** want the fashion field trip."

He sealed the wires to the coupler. She squirmed to the next tangle to begin stripping the ends. At least four percent of him was wickedly grinning.

As they shifted further along the trail of wires, she nudged for five, hell, go for it, six percent. "Lynnnn-nnnnnda huh?"

"With a 'y'." Oh yeah, that **was** a smirk.

Rose nicked her thumb, but kept working. "Saved your life did she?"

"Just sweet." He frowned at the coupler, checking to be sure it was seated properly. "Get a move on, haven't got all day to sit around gossiping."

Rose huffed to the next batch of wires, muttering as she wriggled for a less painful spot. "Bastard in a game, Dalek's shrieking, **and** bitchy Doctor. Yeah, need more days like this."

He jerked on the wad of cables, stretching the tendrils as far as they would go and coming up short. Glaring at her foot planted on the cables, he smiled without meaning it, "You, she reminded me of you." 

Rose grinned as she fed him untangled cables. "Only with dinner and dancing."

The Doctor stopped what he was doing, not with rolled eyes, which is what she feared when he'd been hunched over and quiet for agonizingly long seconds. Instead, he met her gaze with gentle expectation, waited for her curiosity to overcome embarrassment.

She felt the wires in her hands, heard the background chatter, her eyes darted to the screen, and still he looked at her. All of him was focused on all of her. For five, maybe seven seconds, time crawled; each increment was months, or years, perhaps a century. Rose felt the blood drizzling through her veins, knew rust consumed the satellite, that starlight would invade the emptiness. The brilliance of his gaze was all she heard...

He blinked and Rose remembered about that breathing thing.

"No." He said, examining the wires, not even glancing at her. "She reminded me of you, questions, always chattering on. That's all."

Rose had also learned the strength of patience. Knew when silence was more enticing than _questions_. When he finally peeked over the glow of the sonic screwdriver, she waved at the mess around them and mocked his curiosity.

"You and your girlfriends."

The Doctor threw his head back, shoulders out and laughed until the deck plates rattled. He stomped his right foot as if to squash the sound, but it didn't fool Rose. He'd hear those words longer than the whine of a Dalek's mantra.

Rose tried to work faster to make up for stealing a minute to tickle away the terror. He smeared laughter tears away, resumed the circuit of awareness, and got back to joining wires and couplers. His voice made her jump.

"Been aching to say that, have ya?"

"Oh yeah."

"Satisfied?"

Rose considered his smile, the intensity of his focus balanced against his twitching lips and the missing tick beneath his eye. Definitely a good ten percent distracted.

"Pretty much, yeah." 

He inhaled her pleasure and kept working.


End file.
